


Pinioned

by inkstainedwretch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkstainedwretch/pseuds/inkstainedwretch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Domestic Bondage 'verse continues. Shameless porn. Light bondage. Light D/s themes. No excuses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinioned

_Don’t move._

The shell of Castiel’s ear still tingles where Sam’s breath had rushed across it. He stays still, or at least tries to. His body, his vessel, is trembling, despite what his mind keeps repeating. The open air is far too cold against his skin, and it magnifies every other point of contact to an unbearable degree. The carpet is soft, but rough against his knees. The rope laced up his arms is tight, the knot firm against his wrists, but somehow it still isn’t touching him enough. 

_Don’t speak._

The easiest order to follow is always the order of silence.  If he were to speak, he might miss the words and whispers and sounds of joy that echo in his ears. He might not hear the soft scrape of Dean’s fingernails across Sam’s shoulder, or the wet noise Sam’s mouth makes against Dean’s neck.

_Don’t look away._

As though he could. Arms tied straight behind him, chest arched forward into the nothingness around him, all he has is the sight of them. The light streaming through the curtains is not quite enough to see everything, so Castiel keeps his eyes open wide, his ears sharp, and his body still. All he can do now is watch.

 The cord of Dean’s necklace draws an arrow-straight line to Sam’s hand as he tugs it up, and though it’s lost between them when they kiss, the soft thud the amulet makes against Dean’s chest rings loudly in his ears. The slow, slick noise between them, the sound of flesh against flesh when Dean thrusts up into Sam, fans the flames under his skin until he thinks he might burn alive, dissolve into nothing from the sheer _want_. Dean’s hand slides gently through his brother’s hair, and the sound Sam makes against his lips when he tugs sharply nearly makes Cas lose his control and let his head fall down. He keeps himself upright; he can do nothing else.

They don’t look at him. Some nights, they will, but tonight they are completely lost in each other. It’s a somewhat risky place for Cas to be, so close to them but utterly ignored, nearly invisible, and the last time they tried this he did fall, and they were beside him in an instant to bring him back. He could speak, say anything at all, and they would be near him, again.

He says nothing. He doesn’t want to look away from them, and only when he has to check his balance does he realize he’s been leaning forward without realizing it, wanting to see more, wanting to hear more. He leans back, again.

 Something shifts. A sort of shudder runs up Sam’s back, and he snaps upright and grinds down against Dean. With a sudden shout, eyes open wide and flooded with moonlight, he shakes like a statue in an earthquake, and then falls. His body covers Dean’s with shadows, and without thinking Cas leans forward again, gasps so loudly they both go still for a moment, like they’re waiting for him to speak. He closes his mouth. His breath hisses through his nose, but he cannot stop watching, not now. All he can see of Dean is a silhouette, but the sight and sound of him digging his nails into Sam’s hip and half-screaming with pleasure is still so, so beautiful.

There is a long, torturously slow moment, in which the brothers kiss and separate and sit upright, again, and then they turn to face him. They look at him, bound and kneeling and unspeakably aroused, and smile. All at once, Castiel no longer lives in a world where he does not exist, but instead a world in which nothing exists but him. 

They raise him up and lay him on the bed, with Dean’s arm wrapped around him and Sam kissing him fiercely. Dean’s other hand undoes the bindings, and before they’re all the way off of his arms, he’s reaching out to them, clinging desperately to them both. He finds his voice again, but all he can say is _please, please, please_ , and somehow, they understand.

 _Shh…_ Dean’s hand is sliding up and down his arm, pressing on the marks left by the rope as a reminder. _We’re right here._ He feels the soft brush of Sam’s hair on his shoulders, and his chest, and his thighs, and he feels the sweat on his skin that he hadn’t even noticed before, and he feels the heat of their skin against his, and the soft sheets curled in his toes,  and the impossible heat of Sam’s mouth around him, and he _feels_ —

He feels so exquisitely that when he opens his eyes again, there’s a tear at the side of his eye. His throat is so raw that it nearly hurts to breathe. There’s a stiffness in his bones and an anthem in his heart. He looks between Sam and Dean, with their soft smiles and whispered words of love, and knows he is home.


End file.
